Two young men, certainly brothers, stand near the crest of a low hill overlooking a clear, rapid stream. Across the stream, through the mix of pine and leafless hardwoods, a cluster of low structures can be vaguely discerned, drab and silent in the distance. The younger and larger of the two brothers, tall and solid with a mass of unruly brown hair and the beginnings of an unkempt brown beard, stands with the still smoking barrel of a Remington Model 870 pointed to the ground. The other, almost as tall, but slender and well muscled with longer, darker hair and a full black beard, stands with a Browning Safari BAR at the ready. He looks back towards his brother with a hardened expression and a slight hint of moisture in his eyes. There before them, amidst a few languidly swirling sweetgum leaves, lies an older man, almost completely bald with a full, grey beard and one milky blue eye that seemed to be staring at the low, slate colored sky. The other eye is missing, along with much of the left side of the man’s large, round head.
“Well, he finally went zombie on us”, said the younger man. “Put up a pretty good fight, though. It’s been three days since he was bitten; he lasted longer than most. It’s funny, but I haven’t seen the Old Man move that fast in years. He almost got me. That’s why I was off center,” he finished with a sheepish grin.
The older brother betrayed no appreciation of the younger man’s humor. “I told you we should have put him down last night when he was delirious. He wouldn’t have known, and it would have been safer for us. It might be worth remembering that he was bitten by what was left of a child. After everything we’ve been through, he was betrayed by his own pointless empathy. Feelings cloud your judgment. You have got to start understanding that your sentimentality is going to get us killed.”
The younger man looked at his brother with a fraternal mixture of contempt and amusement. “What’s going to get us killed is the total collapse of human civilization and hordes of hygiene-challenged corpses running amuck in every corner of the globe. A modicum of human feeling is probably not going to alter that equation dramatically. Besides, he deserved to expire in his sleep; he’s had a rough few years.”
“If we’re going to survive this, we are going to have to be extraordinarily cautious,“ lectured the older brother, ignoring his sibling’s effort at levity. “The Old Man’s gone and we can only rely on each other now. I don’t intend to become dinner for these putrid abominations because you’re grabassing around or don’t have the spine to do what’s necessary.”
The younger man formulated a clever retort, but before he could give expression to it he was struck by the realization of the weight of responsibility that his older brother must now feel. He sensed that in this moment, in timeless human tradition, the structure of the clan had shifted to accommodate the new reality. The ease with which his brother had assumed both the heavy burden and implied power of leadership was at the same time comforting and annoying. “You’ll shit your drawers long before I will, dude,” was all he could manage. “What now?”
“I guess we should do something with the Old Man’s body first. It wouldn’t be right to just leave him lying out here.”
“He wouldn’t want to be buried,” the younger man responded, his eyes clouding, contradicting his tone. “He was claustrophobic. He would probably have found it comforting to that know he was going to be sitting out under the stars being eaten by something other than former acquaintances. If we had a lounge chair we could set him in it with his legs up, a TV remote in one hand and a beer can in the other. Homo paternicus at eternal rest in his natural environment.”
The older brother finally relented and allowed himself a subtle ironic grin, in addition to the luxury of a single tear which streaked down from his right eye into the wiry tangle of his beard. “It’s getting late. We better do what we’re going top do and find some shelter. We don’t want to be out here when it gets dark.”
